Twisted
by style xx
Summary: They called it twisted. He called it love. [KyleStan, KennyKyle]


Can't count fics right now, but I think we're tied at 3:3.

Disclaimed

Twisted

They called it twisted. He called it love. KyleStan, KennyKyle

--

They said he was twisted.

He would have agreed with them, up until the point when he started directing all the passion he'd had for living a passionless life in a different direction altogether. When that time came, he would have denied them adamantly, even if only in his mind.

At the age of twelve – right on his twelfth birthday, in fact – he realized what exactly all that passion inside him was for. He had to put it all on the bearings of another: his friend, Kyle.

Even before sex and sexuality had meant anything to him or any of his peers, he knew that Kyle and he were bound to be together, somehow, forever. He knew that the little smiling boy with the coarse, rust-colored hair and bright, unfading amber-grayish eyes would be his. Kyle would certainly grow to someday be Kenny's only hope for the salvation of humankind, and Kenny would always be Kyle's savior.

He never mentioned anything about it as they grew into their teens and went on to high school. He knew Kyle was bound to realize it on his own; that they had no choice but to be together. As far as Kenny could see, the only truth that had ever and would ever exist in the universe was that Kyle belonged to him. Everything else was just interpretation.

And then Kyle committed his first sin. He 'fell in love' with Stan.

Kenny had watched as Kyle made mistake after mistake and Stan played along like he actually loved that red-haired boy. Kenny knew the truth. Kyle was just misguided; Stan was just curious. They were playing with fire, and they were bound to get burned. If Kenny had to play God and give them the burning they needed, then so be it.

It was almost a thrill to Kenny, those urges he'd had. He didn't want to kill Stan, because then he'd have to see the dark-haired boy every day in Hell and he didn't want to deal with the immature looks of betrayal he'd undoubtedly get because Stan had been too young to see the truth when he'd died. He knew, for a fact, that once people die and go to Hell or Heaven they never change. Because God and Satan had probably been thinking, what if, in Heaven, someone goes through a change that might earn him Hell? What if, in Hell, he changes himself to deserve Heaven? No, he didn't want to kill Stan.

He didn't want to kill Kyle, either, for much of the same reasons, but sometimes, during his usual walks outside in the middle of the night, he'd pass by Kyle's first-floor bedroom window and peek in to see _his_ soulmate cuddled up next to Stan, and he'd want to cut them and hit them and rape their happiness with his justice.

Badly.

But he didn't, because he knew neither boy would see how Kenny'd just been trying to help them see the truth. That he didn't want to hurt either one of them, in the long run.

That he loved Kyle, and because Kyle cared about Stan, he cared about Stan, too.

They may have called him twisted, but he'd call it love. At this point, he was no longer playing God. He _was_ God. The one who saw all truth and who loved them; the one who enforced divine justice for their own sakes. He knew he held no responsibility in how stupidly those two were acting by playing puppy-love games with one another, but he still felt the need to help them. He'd never asked them for a thank you, because all he needed was to know that he had done them a service.

Because he was Goodness.

One year passed. Kyle and Stan were less consumed in their infatuation and more wary of the practicality they just didn't really have. Just as Kenny had known. And yet, Kyle, with the blackness of the world still broken through only the outermost layers of his soul, believed that he and Stan could make it and that everyone, even Eric Cartman, could be happy at the end of everything.

In their eleventh-grade year, three days after the seventeenth birthday Kenny had neither celebrated nor mentioned to the others, Kenny watched solemnly as Kyle and Stan fought.

He could remember: how Stan, acting the most estranged from Kyle than he had in their two years together, had muttered something to set off the other boy's temper, and Kyle had gotten up and gone around the table to him and Stan had fought. Kenny had watched as they bruised each other's faces and broke each other's spirits over something as inconsequential as Stan's feelings for his ex-girlfriend, and all he'd really been able to think had been You were playing with fire, You were bound to get burned.

That evening, Kyle visited him for the first time in two years; the first time since the start of his 'relationship' with Stan.

"He's an asshole," Kyle declared when Kenny turned to make sure his father was passed out before inviting him in.

Setting a hand on the boy's shoulder, Kenny guided him to the beat-up couch, nodding and 'hmm'ing attentively as complaints poured out of Kyle's mouth.

"And then..." Kyle said by the time Kenny actually started listening again; "he – pushed me and fucking told me he's tired of all my drama – MY drama -!" Kyle looked at Kenny as if expecting the blonde to protest such a thing, and Kenny frowned and grunted in annoyance. Kyle seemed satisfied and continued:

" – as if I'M more dramatic than that bitch – !" his face fell funny, like broken glass that was falling apart disjointedly. "Kenny, he – said he's going back to her."

"Ah," Kenny groaned in faked sympathy and leaned over, looking concerned as he gently pushed his fingers gently into Kyle's hair and stroked his head. Kyle looked so vulnerable like this and Kenny resisted the urge to say You deserved it and I told you so, mainly because he never technically had said anything. "I'm sorry, Kyle."

Kyle's face screwed up and he looked like he might yell again, but then he fell forward and dropped his reddened face against Kenny's chest with a stressed sob. "I was wrong, Ken...god, was I wrong? Wasn't I?" He 'hcc'ed. "...He didn't really love me, I must have just been some – " He 'hcc'ed again. "Some...fun...thing."

"I know," Kenny muttered softly, amused at Kyle's inability to speak and reveling in the fact that Kyle could finally see the truth. He wrapped his arms around Kyle and the redhead groaned softly, sniffed angrily, and buried himself further in that embrace. Kenny sighed, "I know, I know. I know," as Kyle shook against him.

"Kenny." He sniffed again. "You're the best friend I have, you know...I don't know why I didn't see it...you've never hurt me like he did..."

Kenny smiled and hugged him tighter as he started to cry again.

"I know."

And there they were, Kyle crying into Kenny's arms, and Kenny, about it all, extremely pleased. Kyle had made a mistake against fate by not loving Kenny, and now he deserved all the misery he was feeling. The smile on his face was crossed by a larger one because he knew he was Kyle's savior. He was his Savior. Sometimes there was punishment in love, in real love, and Kenny knew the pain he'd been wishing on Kyle was not proof against his love, but proof supporting it. He really did love this boy.

He'd done the right thing and he'd do it again. He'd hit Kyle if Kyle was ever wrong again. He'd be okay making Kyle bleed if Kyle committed any injustice toward him ever again. He would be bettering Kyle by loving him this way.

Someday, Kyle would see it, and he would thank him. Kenny was certain. Some said his love was twisted, but had there really ever been anything about Kenny McCormick that wasn't? That's what made him special. That's what made him the one for Kyle.

He was God, after all.


End file.
